


King and Queen Idiot

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Scene, Bus Kids - Freeform, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Post-Episode: s01e20 Nothing Personal, Some bus kids, Throwback to Season 1 turning AU, Tumblr Prompt, Writing Prompt, Writing prompt: "Tell me you need me"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8554108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: What if things had gone a little differently after the poolside scene.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TashxTARDIS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashxTARDIS/gifts).



> jsimmonz requested Nr. 91 + Fitzsimmons from [a list of writing prompts on Tumblr](http://the-nerdy-stjarna.tumblr.com/post/152337867554/drabble-challenge).
> 
> The task: Incorporate the phrase “Tell me you need me" into your fic/drabble
> 
> UPDATE (Dec. 7, 2016): TashxTARDIS (fitzsimmonsftw on Tumblr) requested a follow-up, so I added more chapters .

They’re sitting next to each other on the stairs of the pool, bathing their feet in the cool, clear water. The scent of chlorine is gently biting her nose. 

She can’t remember the last time it had been this quiet, almost serene. Certainly not within the last few days. S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen and friends and colleagues had died, gone missing, or had turned out to be the enemy within.

It wasn’t the bloody trail trickling down the wall of the storage room, or the sight of Koenig’s grimacing face staring down at her with wide-open lifeless eyes that had caused her to scream. She had carried out plenty of autopsies. She was used to death, violent or not. It hadn’t been the sight, it had been the realization that the treason from which she thought they had successfully escaped had followed them to Providence. That nothing and no one was safe. Nothing and no one could be trusted.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had been labeled a terrorist organization, and now they were fugitives on the run. Running from every government organization on this planet. Holed up in a motel somewhere, hoping no one would come looking for them this very second. Sharing a room with Skye ‘cause the dinky place had been too booked to give everyone a single room. Their bags of hastily bought back-up clothes packed, ready to grab if anyone showed up unexpectedly. Everything was in pieces.

Fitz’s voice interrupts her train of thought. “Must be some reason why Ward did it. Maybe they brainwashed him.”

Brainwashing. It was an option. But somehow it didn’t feel like the truth to her. “Don’t know. Some people are just evil.”

“Well, I’d rather not believe that.” Of course not. She didn’t want to believe it either, but they had to face the facts.

“It’s true. I just assumed we’d be better at spotting it.” She hadn’t always been that cynical, but the past few days had certainly changed that. Fitz still wasn’t ready to accept it. The memory of him breaking down in the kitchen as she had given her assessment of Koenig’s autopsy was painful. She’d only seen him this upset once, when he’d gotten the news of his mother’s passing. He had destroyed half the inventory at the lab before he finally sank to the floor crying. He had lost his only family member then. And now Ward, who had become like a brother to him, had been the traitor. She loves Fitz for wanting to remain positive, for his belief in the good in people, for his trust. But right now, that kind of trust seems to do more harm than good.

“Tell me that you’re not Hydra.” His words yank her back into reality. Looks like his trust was crumbling after all. But in her? It couldn’t be.

“What?” she asks, surprised.

“I know that it’s ridiculous, but I just need to hear you say it.” Affirmation. Sometimes that’s all it takes.

Jemma leans forward to face him directly, her eyes warm and soft. “I’m not Hydra.”

“Yeah, good,” he replies, a hint of tears in his eyes. “Good, and I… ‘cause I’m not either.”

“Of course not,” she says confidently, hiding the fact that it  _ did _ feel good to hear him say it.

“Yeah. Because if you ever did—“

“I wouldn’t—” She doesn’t want to continue this conversation. It’s too painful to think about it.

“I don’t know what I would do.” It’s like he’s saying the things she keeps to herself.

“You’ll never have to find out.” She hopes she’ll never have to either.

Reassuringly, she puts her hand on his knee, squeezing it gently. Establishing a link with the only unbreakable bond she feels still remains.

She only lets go when Trip stops by, offering them chips. Fitz accepts right away. Of course he wouldn’t say no to junk food. But there’s something about the way he accepts it. With honest friendliness. Maybe whatever had bugged him about Trip had finally passed.

“You know,” Fitz says quietly, nodding in Trip’s direction, who has continued on his path. “He really is a good guy, isn’t he?”

Jemma looks after Trip and smiles. “Yes, he is,” she says and turns to face Fitz again.

“I should apologize to him for being such an arse,” Fitz ponders. “Just not quite sure how.”

Once again, she reaches for his knee, squeezing it gently. “I don’t think he expects an apology.”

“Yeah, well,” he replies. “It’s the right thing to do.”

He places his hand on top of hers, his thumb drawing small circles on the knuckle of her pinky. The sight makes her smile and she notices her heart beating just a tad quicker.

They sit for a while longer in silence, until Fitz speaks up. “I think I’ll head to my room. Shower. Go to bed.”

“Oh,” she says, a bit disappointed. “Of course. It’s getting late.” She sighs. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer though.”

He smiles at her and slowly gets up, forcing her to break the connection they had established. “See you in the morning, Simmons.”

“Yes,” she replies, looking up to where he stands.

She watches him leave, blinking away a thin watery film that has crept into her eyes.

“Fitz’s leaving you all to yourself?” Trip’s sudden appearance makes her jump a little.

“Yes,” she replies, slightly flustered. “It’s getting late.”

“Mind if I keep you company instead?”

“Not at all,” she answers politely.

They sit quietly until Trip gently nudges her with his elbow. “I’m glad we all made it out okay. It’s good to still have some friendly faces around.”

She smiles at him. “Yes, most definitely. And I cannot thank you enough for standing by my side at the Hub.”

He doesn’t reply. His warm and friendly eyes gaze at her and almost reflexively conjure another smile. It isn’t until he slowly moves his head closer that she realizes what he’s about to do. Instinctively she leans backwards away from him, as if her lips had the same polarity as his. A quiet and surprised “Oh” escapes her lips.

Trip immediately straightens back up and lets out a small laugh. “Alright, that’s a no then,” he says, his smile still beaming.

“Yes,” Jemma replies. “I mean, no… I mean, yes that’s a no… I’m sorry,” she adds shyly.

“Sorry?” Trip chuckles. “Why the hell would you apologize for that? I mean, maybe I thought there was something there, but, hey, if that’s not the case, it’s not the case.”

“Well,” Jemma replies. “You are certainly very charming… and quite attractive, and I will admit that I have enjoyed your flirtatiousness.” She sighs. “But I’m afraid, these feelings that you may have towards me… I cannot say that I feel the same… for  _ you _ .”

“Ahhh,” Trip replies knowingly. “May I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“This ‘not me’… does he know?”

“Gosh no!” Jemma exclaims.

“Gosh no?” Trip imitates her. “Why not?”

“Well, we’re friends,  _ best _ friends… And I have my doubts that he reciprocates my feelings.”

“Are we talking about the same—“

“Trip, Simmons, come here please,” Coulson’s voice interrupts him.

Jemma looks up. “Oh look. Agent May.” Quickly she gets up, welcoming not having to continue their conversation.

“Where is Fitz?” Coulson asks, once Jemma and Trip reach the table where Skye, May, and Coulson are standing.

“He went to his room,” Jemma explains. “I could get him, Sir.”

“No, no need. I’ll talk to him later,” Coulson replies. He rubs his hands together. “Well, Agent May is back.”

“Good to have you back,” Trip comments.

“Indeed,” Jemma adds.

“Yes,” Coulson says. “We definitely need her! Unfortunately for you two,” he adds, pointing at Skye and Jemma, “since the motel doesn’t have more rooms available, May will have to join you guys.”

“Fine by me,” Skye replies dryly. “I’m not gonna sleep much anyways.”

“Well, Sir,” Jemma interjects quickly, as an idea pops into her head. “Actually, that sounds like it might get a little crowded.”

“You got a better idea?” Skye mumbles grumpily.

“Well, Fitz and I have shared hotel rooms before during our time at the Academy and at Sci-Ops. Attending conferences and such,” Jemma explains. “I’d be more than happy to relinquish my bed to Agent May and join Fitz in his room. I’m sure he would approve as well.”

“You sure about that?” Coulson asks, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Absolutely,” Jemma replies confidently.

* * *

He looks surprised when he opens the door, wearing long pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” he asks in concern.

“Yes, everything is fine,” Jemma reassures him. “Agent May is back.”

“Oh, that’s good. We can use everyone.”

“Yes, exactly,” Jemma agrees. “And Coulson suggested that she should join Skye and myself in our room, but I thought that would be too crowded, so I proposed that…”

“…you could stay here. Like in the good-old-days of attending conferences,” Fitz finishes her sentence.

“Exactly. Plus, I think maybe Skye and May could use some time to themselves… to talk, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” He opens the door wider and gestures into the room. “Come in! There’s only one bed. But I can sleep on the floor or something.”

“Oh, please, Fitz,” she interjects. “It’s a big bed. I’m sure we can both comfortably fit. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, no, of course not. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” she echoes his words, and looks around the small suite. “Are you done in the bathroom?”

“Yes, yes. I’m all done in there,” Fitz replies and gestures to the door at the far end. “There’s a second set of clean towels, so…”

“Yes, I would definitely like to take a shower,” Jemma admits.

“Yeah, go right ahead.”

She holds on tightly to her little bag of things and heads straight for the bathroom.

* * *

The water feels hot against her skin. Almost too hot. Almost a little painful. But somehow she needs it to be that way.

When she’s done, she wraps the large white towel around her chest, tucking it in so that it stays up without her needing to hold on to it. She grabs a comb from her toiletry bag and steps in front of the fogged up mirror. All she sees is a faint outline of her face, no details, no eyes, just a blurry featureless blob.

_ We have to become ghosts _ , Skye had said when she came to collect everyone’s badges. It was enough to make Jemma choke up.

She keeps staring at the mirror and all that stares back at her is a featureless ghost.

And just like that, panic overcomes her. Her body starts shaking. Tears shoot to her eyes. She stumbles backwards, dropping her comb.

Quietly she calls out Fitz’s name. Repeatedly. Getting just a little louder with each call.

Suddenly, the bathroom door swings open. “Jemma?” Fitz exclaims, rushing in.

She presses her hand against her still damp chest. “I… I…I can’t breathe.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Fitz repeats, sliding his arm under hers to reach around her shoulders. With his other arm under her knees, he carefully picks her up and carries her to the bed.

He puts her down so that her back can rest against the head of the bed and sits down on the edge facing her. Gently he cups her face. “Look at me, Jemma… Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay.”

But she can’t calm down. Frantically, she throws her arms around his neck and sobs against his shoulder.

“We’re ghosts, Fitz. Ghosts!” she cries, her voice trembling.

“Shhhhh, shhhh,” is all he says in reply, stroking her wet hair.

When her sobbing slowly subsides, he breaks their embrace. His eyes are worried. “What happened, Jemma?”

Her voice still wavering, she tries to explain. “We don’t exist anymore, Fitz. All our personal records, photos, anything that proves we exist has been erased. We’re ghosts. We can’t call our families. Hydra is hiding in plain sight. We can’t trust anyone.”

“You can trust  _ me _ ,” Fitz interjects. “And I can trust  _ you _ . And maybe that’s not much, but it’s  _ something _ .”

She grimaces, as her angst boils back to the surface.

“Tell me you need me, Fitz.” Jemma exclaims, as a new wave of tears streams down her face. “Tell me I exist. That I’m useful. That I won’t vanish. Tell me I…”

“Heyheyhey,” he interrupts her, holding her face in his palms. “Of course I need you, Jemma!” He lets go of her face and gestures toward the door. “Why do you think I’ve been acting like an idiot around Trip? I was afraid of losing you to him. Becoming a bloody third wheel, like with Milton and your other Academy trophies.”

“You’re jealous?” Jemma asks surprised, slowly realizing that maybe she had been wrong in assuming that Fitz saw nothing but a friend in her.

“Come on. He likes you. He’s flirting with you, with his big smile, and his shiny teeth, and his perfectly shaped head,” Fitz exclaims, gesturing wildly.

“His perfectly shaped head? Who would compliment someone’s head?” Jemma asks, chuckling nervously, hoping that Skye hadn’t told Fitz about her encounter with Agent Sitwell.

“Simmons,” Fitz sighs. “You’re enjoying every minute of it, and … it hurts… because I don’t want to lose you… and the guy knows everything, Jemma. Grounding wires. Moby Dick. Zygomatic fractures. Darkforce. Cosmic radiation. Pure negative energy. How can I compete with that? I need you, but you don’t need me.”

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Fitz. Look around.”

“Umm, okay?” he asks confused, turning his head slowly from left to right.

“I’m not sharing a room with Trip now, am I?” Jemma explains. “I mean, yes, I argued that it would get too crowded and that I was perfectly happy to share a room with you, because we’ve done that plenty of times before… but the  _ real _ reason was that I wanted to share a room with  _ you _ … I wanted to have the  _ only _ person I still trust  _ one hundred percent _ with me. The one who always makes me feel better when I crumble.”

“That’s me?”

“You’re an idiot,” she says, letting out a small laugh.

“So, you and Trip?” he asks carefully.

“There’s  _ nothing _ ,” Jemma confesses. “Yes, he’s flirting with me, and he  _ may _ have tried to kiss me, but… I told him I was not interested, because…”

“Because what?” he asks, his eyes fixed on hers.

Her hand reaches for his cheek. She notices how his eyes widen as she leans in to kiss him. His lips are tense at first, but when she allows her lower lip to part from his ever-so-briefly only to return for another gentle touch, his lips reply softly. She lets her lips linger on his for a second more before pulling away, her hand still resting on his cheek, her eyes beaming as brightly as her smile.

His eyes are still wide, surprised, shocked maybe. “Really?” he mumbles, as the corners of his mouth quirk up a little.

She chuckles and gently caresses his cheek with her thumb.

“Bloody hell,” Fitz exclaims out of nowhere, covering his eyes.

Jemma looks at him confused. Then her eyes wander away from him, and she notices that her towel has slipped down, exposing her breasts.

“Oh Fitz… Come on! This really isn’t a big deal all things considered” she tries to calm him, but he interrupts her.

“Nononononono... I’m having a hard enough time believing that the kiss was real. You can’t just throw nakedness into the mix. I don’t work that fast!”

She smiles over his adorable shyness. Carefully, she leans forward and places another gentle kiss on his lips. His hand remains firmly pressed over his eyes.

“ _ That _ was real,” she whispers and scoots past him to get out of the bed. “I’ll go and get dressed.”

* * *

She returns only a few minutes later, wearing a thin pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting T-shirt, her wet hair up in a pony tail. He is sitting on the bed, resting his back against the headboard. His legs are slightly pulled up and twitching nervously. His arms are resting on his knees. His hands are intertwined, his thumbs twirling restlessly. She smiles and walks over, sitting down next to him cross-legged.

“So,” she sighs, turning to face him more directly. “You never actually said whether you were opposed to me kissing you.”

A smile flashes across his face, but Jemma can’t quite figure out what feelings she is seeing. “Definitely not opposed,” Fitz says. “Just… confused… surprised. Worried.”

“Worried?” Jemma asks, surprised.

Fitz takes a deep breath. “A few minutes ago you were freaking out about becoming invisible.” He pauses. His eyes seem torn between avoiding hers and searching for them. “Did you do this just to… feel visible?”

“No,” Jemma exclaims without hesitation. “Those two occurrences were completely unrelated. Well, maybe not  _ completely _ unrelated, but… Ever since the alien virus and what you said to me … you know, ‘You’ve been beside me the whole damn time.’ I realized… well… I didn’t want anyone else beside me… and I miss you when you’re not there… and when things went south at the Hub, I thought I would never see you again, and when I could finally hug you, I never wanted to let go… and when Trip tried to kiss me, I felt like I was cheating on you… and… I don’t know… all of these variables seem to indicate that maybe there’s more to my feelings for you than just friendship. And I didn’t say anything, because even though I thought that  _ maybe _ I saw something similar in your eyes, I wasn’t entirely sure, and then when I tried to find out, you seemed to suggest that you didn’t reciprocate my feelings… and I didn’t want to risk being wrong and ruining our friendship.”

“You tried to find out?” he interrupts her, scooting until he sits cross-legged as well, facing her. “When did you? How did you? … What?”

“Well, when we were hiking through the tundra,” Jemma explains. “I mentioned that at least we still had each other, indicating my fondness, and you replied that you didn’t want things to change, and then when I said that things had already changed between us you didn’t seem to have anything to say in return. And later you repeated your sentiment of not wanting things to change when I asked you about your resentment of Trip.”

“Ummm,” Fitz mumbles quietly. Then he straightens up. “Now, see… I said I didn’t want things to change, because  _ I _ didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship by admitting that  _ maybe _ I felt more for you, because… well… I thought you and Trip… and that  _ that _ was the change you were referring to.” He pauses. “Bloody hell, Ward was right.”

“Ward?” Jemma exclaims shocked.

“Yes,” Fitz says, shaking his head. “He said that everything is falling apart, and we don’t know how it’ll end. And if there was something I wanted to tell you, I shouldn’t wait.”

“Oh,” Jemma mumbles.

“And at first I didn’t get it, because, well that’s just ridiculous, isn’t it? I mean, we’re friends, best friends! I mean, it didn’t make sense to try and change it, to risk admitting something and then ruining our friendship.”

Jemma lets out a small laugh. “Yes it does, Fitz. It does make sense. To  _ everyone _ except us… because—apparently— _ we’re _ the King and Queen Idiot… and  _ terrible _ communicators.”

“God, we’re such bad communicators,” Fitz agrees, shaking his hands, staring at his folded hands in his lap.

Jemma reaches for them. “Fitz,” she says softly. “I like you more than a friend.”

He chuckles quietly, pulling one hand from under hers and covering it. “Jemma… I like you more than a friend… and I need you. And you’re not a ghost. And you’ll never vanish if I have any say in it. And I’d really like to kiss you again... if you think that’s okay.”

“Most certainly,” she replies, unable to hide her smile.

Her skin tingles when his fingers gently trace her hairline, until they wrap behind her neck, drawing her closer to his warm, soft lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TashxTARDIS (fitzsimmonsftw on Tumblr) requested a followup to the original story and since it was such a seamless followup, I decided to add it to the original fic as additional chapters.

Jemma feels surprisingly rested when she wakes up. Fitz is looking down at her. He’s propped up, resting his head on his hand. A wide grin brightens his face, letting the blue of his eyes sparkle almost mischievously. The sight conjures a smile onto her own lips.

“How long have you been up?” she whispers quietly.

He shrugs. “Maybe an hour.”

“ _ Really _ ?” she asks, surprised.

“I woke up,” he says. “And you were there, looking so peaceful, and somehow I thought… if I fall back asleep, it will all be gone when I wake up.”

“That makes little to no sense,” she teases him.

He chuckles. “Well, my brain at four in the morning has a mind of its own… or lack thereof.”

“So, right now it’s—” Jemma asks.

“Five a.m.”

“Bit too early to get up,” she says suggestively and scoots closer to him.

She notices his eyes widening. He inhales slowly, then seemingly forgets to exhale.

“Fitz?”

“CanIkissyou?” The words escape his lips merged into a single puff of air.

She laughs out loud. “Fitz,” she says reassuringly. “You don’t have to ask every time you want to kiss me. I think we’ve moved past that.”

A smile flashes across his face, and he moves his body closer to hers. Jemma rolls onto her back, inviting him to follow her. Her heart beats faster when he accepts her invitation, hovering over her, gazing into her eyes, before lowering himself to kiss her. Her hand reaches around his neck, pulling him closer. She’s pleasantly surprised that his kiss is far more confident and eager than the previous night. She arches her back to bring her body closer to his. An exciting energy rushes through her when his hand slides down her waist and disappears underneath her T-shirt.

But as quickly as Fitz had ventured into these new and exciting territories he retreats, pulling his hand back and pushing himself up on it instead. He breaks their passionate kiss, looking down at her with a mix of longing and fear.

“What’s wrong?” Jemma asks out of breath, wrapping one hand around his neck and massaging it gently.

“I don’t want to move too fast,” he replies, his breath heavy and anxious.

“Too fast?” Jemma chuckles. “Fitz. It’s been years. And the world is falling apart around us and we have no idea what tomorrow will bring. I don’t think it’s too fast. If it  _ is _ , I don’t care. I don’t want to waste time. I don’t want to miss opportunities.”

“You’re not nervous at all?”

“Of course I am,” she exclaims. “I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. But—” Gently, she traces the features of his face with her fingers. “You’re my best friend, Fitz. I trust you one hundred percent. Knowing that I’m about to take this step with my best friend takes away the nervousness and leaves only the excitement.”

He smiles and slowly lowers his lips until they melt into hers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the dialogue here will seem a little familiar.

Her head hurts, as if all the blood in her veins is hammering against her brain. She feels slightly nauseous. Slowly she pushes herself up. She looks at her surroundings, disoriented. Everything is bathed in a strange shimmering blue.

“You looked very peaceful sleeping.” Jemma looks in the direction of Fitz’s voice. “Didn’t want to wake you,” he says, sitting on the floor of the pod. “But I’m glad that you’re up.”

“What’s happening?” she asks, staring out of the window into a dark and shapeless landscape.

She listens as he explains how the pod must have sunk to the bottom of the ocean, at least 90 feet down. He had managed to strap them to one of the backboards before the pod hit the water. That saved their lives. It pains her to see him holding his broken arm, which he had tried to put in a sling himself.

“I thought we were dead for sure, Fitz,” Jemma exclaims when he finishes. “We’re so lucky.” She crawls over to where he’s sitting and carefully examines his arm. “Now we just need to figure a way out of here.” She looks at him, but his blue eyes are dark and hopeless. “We’ll find a way out of here, right?” she asks, trying to get him to reassure her.

“And then we’d be in the middle of the ocean with the bends and no floatation and no one looking for us,” he replies, and whatever hope she still held in her heart shatters. They don’t have enough supplies. Not enough food. Not enough water. Not enough oxygen. It dawns on her.

“We’re going to die down here,” she mutters, tears in her eyes.

She sits down next to him, reaching for his uninjured hand. A blanket of silence wraps around them. They’re lost for words.

“At least we’re together,” Fitz mumbles after a while. “Is that too cheesy to say?” He looks at her, his eyes begging for an answer.

“No, it’s not cheesy at all,” Jemma replies, and leans over to place a gentle kiss on his lips, careful not to cause him any physical pain. “It’s fitting we’re down here together. This is where all life began on our planet, anyway... Just outside that glass—”

She pauses, looking at the bulletproof, pressure-resistant window.

“The glass, Fitz, the glass!” she exclaims.

It takes him a moment to catch up, but quickly their brains work in unison to figure out a solution to their dire problem like they’ve always done.

“All right, we need to hurry,” Fitz says only a little while later. “We have to do this soon. There has to be enough ox—”

“Oxygen to ignite, yes,” she confirms.

“Yeah. Okay,” Fitz says, taking in a deep breath. “Now, when I press that power button—”

“The window will blow in, and water will rush inwards,” Jemma interrupts him, well aware of their plan, ready to get going.

“Yeah, which is gonna be like a hundred punches to the stomach, okay?” Fitz explains and Jemma begins to wonder why his eyes are still so dark and full of sorrow.

“Now, this is near empty,” Fitz continues, waving a small oxygen bottle in front of her. “But I’ve rigged it to let out a burst of very high pressure. Should force a breath into your lungs. Should be enough to get you up the 90 feet or so.”

“One breath?” Jemma asks confused. “But there’s two of us.”

“Yeah, I’ve done the math,” he says, and the implication of his words makes her heart sink. “You’re taking it. You’re a better swimmer, anyway.”

“No,” she exclaims in protest. “No! I’m not leaving you here. That’s ridiculous. We need a new plan.”

“We’re not discussing it, okay?” Fitz pleads. His hand trembles when he extends the oxygen bottle in her direction. “You’re taking it ... end of story. I couldn’t live if you didn’t.”

“Well, I feel the same way,” she counters. “There  _ has _ to be another way.”

“You’re taking it,” he repeats, his eyes welling up.

“Why?” she yells at him, tears streaming down her face. “Why would you make me do this? You’re my best friend in the world! And we’ve only just become  _ more _ than that and we’ve had too little time. I can’t lose you. I can’t. I’m not ready. We—”

“Please... Jemma. Please. It’s okay,” he tries to comfort her, but she doesn’t trust his smile.

“No,” Jemma exclaims and bridges the gap between them, cupping his face, kissing his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, his lips. “No!”

“Jemma. Jemma,” he tries to get her attention. “We have to hurry.”

She doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to hear him.

“No,” she repeats, begging for another solution even though her brain knows there is none.

One more time she presses her lips against his, urgently, desperately. For a moment she fears that he’ll push her away, but instead he deepens their kiss, allowing her to bathe in serenity, warmth, and happiness.

When his lips part from hers, his eyes keep her captured, keep her in a safe and wonderful fantasy world. She barely notices that her hands accept the oxygen bottle, that he takes a step back.

“I love you, Jemma,” he says, and a smile flashes across her face, mirroring the one on his.

Only when her eyes catch a glimpse of him reaching for the button to activate the defibrillator does her brain catch up with the grim reality.

Her scream is threatened to be drowned by the dark blue sea rushing in through the broken window, but an inner power, an instinctive will to live guides her hand gripping the oxygen bottle to her mouth, while her other hand lunges forward to grab a hold of his shirt.


	4. Chapter 4

Her body aches from sitting hunched over in an uncomfortable chair in a sterile white room. Beeping monitors as constant background noise invade and disrupt her thoughts. Slowly, her eyes flutter shut, losing a battle against too many hours of insomnia.

“Any changes?” Skye’s unexpected voice causes Jemma to jump up in her seat. She clutches her chest with both hands at the surprise, but just as quickly as they had reached up they return to his hand, ensuring herself that he’s still there and breathing.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Skye apologizes.

“No, it’s quite alright,” Jemma says tiredly. “No changes.” She lets out a deep sigh.

Skye grabs a chair and sits down on the other side of Fitz’s hospital bed.

“Can I get you anything?” Skye asks. “Food? Water? Vodka?”

Jemma chuckles briefly, and forces her eyes to depart from Fitz to look at Skye. “Thank you, but I’m not really hungry, and Trip already brought me some water earlier.” She pauses. “And I’m more of a Scotch person to be honest.”

“Really? Well, s’pose I should have known,” Skye says, nodding towards Fitz’s pale face.

An involuntary smile flashes across Jemma’s lips, but she remains silent.

“So when exactly did you two go from friends to—umm—more than that?” Skye asks, her fingers nervously playing.

Jemma looks back at her, wrinkling her forehead. “How do you—” she begins to ask, but is unable to finish her question.

“Well, our motel rooms kinda shared a wall in case you didn’t notice and it wasn’t exactly the most soundproof wall and well—”

“Oh god, you  _ heard _ us?” Jemma exclaims, covering her mouth with one hand.

Skye nods. “It was quite an impressive show actually.”

“Oh my,” is all Jemma manages to mumble, before her eyes widen in shock. “Does May—”

“The woman gets up at 4,” Skye replies. “She was on her morning run. Don’t think she knows anything.”

Jemma sighs in relief. “Thank god! Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not,” Skye promises. “But… I mean, why not? I don’t think anyone would be totally surprised or shocked or anything.”

Jemma shrugs her shoulders. “It’s against S.H.I.E.L.D. regulations,” she explains.

Skye scoffs. “Umm, yeah, I’m fairly certain  _ that’s _ a S.H.I.E.L.D. regulation that’s not exactly high on the list of priorities for our new Director,” she counters. “I mean, I won’t say anything but… just sayin’.”

Jemma smiles shyly. “You’re probably right,” she admits. “Still. It’s so new and now that he’s—” She can’t bring herself to say anything about his current state, too scared because she doesn’t know which way the pendulum will swing. “We got together  _ that _ night,” she adds quietly.

“ _ Really _ ?” Skye asks, surprised. “Well… I’m happy for you.” Skye’s eyes wander to look at Fitz. “He’ll be alright. I know he will.”

Jemma fights back tears. “Thank you,” she whispers, her thumbs drawing little circles on his immobile hand.  _ I hope you’re right. _


	5. Chapter 5

It’s been two months since Fitz had woken from his coma; two months since the extent of his injuries had become clear — the brain damage, the nerve damage, the tremors, the memory loss.

“Why don’t you tell him?” Skye asks Jemma.

They’re standing outside the lab, speaking barely above a whisper, looking through the glass window at Fitz who is trying to grab objects of various sizes and shapes from a tray in front of him. His hand shakes like leaves trembling in the wind. He grimaces, struggling to hold on to the smooth surfaces and finally swipes all of the objects off the tray in frustration. His angry roar can be heard through the door, and Jemma flinches at the sound. Inside the room, Fitz’s physical therapist takes a deep breath and puts on an empathetic but fake smile.

“He forgot that he loved me,” Jemma says quietly, fighting back tears. “I can’t force those feelings back. I can’t just say ‘Hey, remember? You should be in love with me.’ He wouldn’t know if it were true or if I’m putting words into his mouth, ideas into his head. I can’t do that to him.”

Skye shrugs her shoulders. “What if he didn’t forget that  _ he _ loved  _ you _ ? What if he forgot that  _ you _ loved him  _ back _ ?”

Jemma’s eyes wander back to Fitz, who is staring at his feet, ignoring anything his physical therapist tells him until she finally lets out a deep sigh, turns around, and heads for the exit.

“He’s having a rough day,” she tells Jemma and Skye in passing.

Jemma presses her lips into a thin line, trying to find her composure. She takes one step towards the door when she feels Skye’s hand on her shoulder. “You don’t  _ have _ to go in, you know?” Skye says. “He’s taking a break from physical therapy; maybe  _ you _ should take a break, too. You’ve spent  _ every _ waking hour with him. You’re doing  _ everything _ you can to try and help him, and I know you’d never complain but I can see how it’s killing you to go in there time after time when he’s so angry and frustrated with everyone and everything, including  _ you _ . You love him and he’s—”

Jemma shakes her head. “He has  _ every _ right to be angry and frustrated,” she interrupts Skye. “He needs time. And I don’t care how long it takes, I won’t let him vanish,” she adds.

_ What if he forgot that you loved him back? _

Skye’s question echoes in her mind as she opens the door and enters the room.


	6. Chapter 6

His speech had improved tremendously in the past few weeks, even though he still often struggled to find the right words. His hand was still giving him trouble, even though he was making progress with his fine motor skills. But his mood had been stuck on angry, and absent. He barely spoke to her anymore, barely looked at her, and it was wearing her thin. She missed his voice, his smile, his touch, his lips on hers. She wanted to give him all the time he needed, wanted to be patient, but with every silent day that passed, she felt like a piece of her was disappearing; that little by little, piece by piece she was vanishing from his memory.

She watches him from her desk. He’s standing at one of the lab benches, focused on an old engineering project. He had built it during his time at the Academy. Jemma had suggested he try to take it apart and put it back together days ago. She thought the muscle memory of having done it before would help him succeed. It gave her a shimmer of hope that he had at least taken her suggestion; a sign that even though he wasn’t  _ talking _ to her, maybe at least he still heard her, even listened.

“Fitz?” Jemma says quietly.

He puts down his tools and slowly turns around, offering her a questioning look but no words.

Her beating heart becomes the driving force urging her to ask a question that had taken root in her mind ever since Skye had brought up the topic almost a month ago.

“What do you remember?” Jemma asks. Her voice is shaking as she tries to blink away tears. “About us?” she adds, barely above a whisper.

He squints his eyes and barely noticeably shakes his head. “Don’t understand,” he mumbles.

“Do you remember the last thing you said to me?” she tries to dig a little deeper.

His gaze wanders to the floor and Jemma notices his eyelids fluttering and the tremor in his hand reappearing.

Her breathing quickens and a tightness fills her lungs and throat. It’s like she’s turned onto a road she’s afraid to walk on not knowing what’s waiting for her at the other end. And yet she had stepped onto that path, unable to go back.

“Do you love me, Fitz?” she asks, wiping away a tear trailing down her cheek. “Because you used to,” she adds, taking a step towards him, unable to stop her heart from spilling over. “And I thought that maybe you forgot—”

“Th-that’s not something one… one forgets,” he says, still staring at the ground.

“Do you remember that I loved you too?” she asks, fixing her eyes on his, pleading with him to look up. “That before the accident we—”

“I do,” he replies, still unwilling to look at her.

The two words pull Jemma into different directions: confusion, hope, sadness, fear, love, anger.

“Then  _ why _ are you acting this way?” The question escapes her lips louder than she had wanted, but her heart is aching to know the truth. “So distant. As if there was  _ nothing _ !”

He finally lifts his head, and the pain in his eyes is almost too much for her to bear. He bites his lips, presses them into a thin line, preparing himself to speak. “I… I’m trying to… to make it easier for you.” He pauses. “To… to leave.”

“Leave?” Jemma mutters in disbelief, and takes another step towards him. “What do you mean, Fitz?”

He lowers his head again, and she closes her eyes, not wanting to look at him not looking at her.

“How,” he begins before falling silent again. Jemma doesn’t open her eyes, just waits for the silence to pass. “How could you… how could you love me, when I’m so…so damaged… b-broken?” she finally hears him say.

Her eyes shoot open and she sees him looking back at her, his eyes shimmering sadly.

“Fitz,” she whispers gently. “I love you.” She walks closer until she stands right in front of him. The corners of her mouth quirk up ever so slightly. “Broken or not,” she continues, “I’m  _ here _ . I  _ want _ to be here with you. You don’t get to decide whether I love you or not.”

She raises her hand instinctively, longing to touch him but pulls back, afraid he might push her away.

“I miss you!” she admits quietly. “You’re my best friend, Fitz, and we had such little time exploring what else we could be, and I… I  _ know _ now’s not the time to jump right back into being—” She pauses. “—more than friends, but I need you to know that’s what I want… for the long haul.”

She searches his eyes, trying to read his thoughts, taking strength from the fact that he’s no longer avoiding her gaze.

“I’m not here out of some kind of obligation, Fitz,” she says, her voice stronger now, more confident. “I’m here because I  _ want _ to be here,  _ need _ to be here. You’re not the only one who’s broken, Fitz.” Her hands begin to gesture as she finally allows herself to open up. “I need you,  _ too _ . You’re my King Idiot and I’m your Queen Idiot and no matter what happened, we can get through this…  _ together _ . Just, please don’t shut me out anymore. You told me I’d never vanish. And I won’t let  _ you _ vanish either. I won’t let you give up on yourself. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Get that into that stubborn brain of yours, Leopold Fitz, because you might be broken but you’re still at least twice as brilliant as most people.”

The need for air forces her to stop, and she looks at him, trying to catch her breath.

“You done now?” he asks, and Jemma notices a sparkle in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in months.

“Maybe,” she replies, resting her hands on her hips.

He takes a deep breath, wetting his lips, before exhaling slowly through his mouth. “I—” he begins. “I don’t like my…myself very much right now,” he admits.

Jemma smiles sadly. “Can’t I like you for the both of us… for a little while until you feel better?” she asks, shrugging her shoulders.

He chuckles and the familiar sound that she’d missed so much brings tears to her eyes.

“Maybe… maybe that’ll work,” he replies.

He reaches for her hand with his trembling fingers, and the energy from the simple gesture surges through her body.

“I don’t  _ want _ to lose you,” Fitz says. “But I… I didn’t want you to… to f-feel like you—”

“I just told you—” Jemma tries to interject, wanting to reassure him that obligation was not the driving force behind her actions.

“I know,” Fitz interrupts her, smiling briefly. “I love you, Jemma,” he says and she notices that his hand holding on to hers has stopped trembling. “G-give me time,” he pleads.

“Of course,” Jemma replies, her tears becoming a blend of sad and happy. “As much as you need.”

They gaze at each other and his energy pulls her closer, like an irresistible and unbreakable force.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, full of hope.

Fitz laughs out loud and once again the sound that lay dormant for too long fills her heart. He brings his face closer to hers. “You… you don’t have to ask ev-every time you w-want to kiss me,” he says, smirking at her mischievously.

She laughs and wraps her hand around his neck. “King Idiot,” she whispers before closing the gap between their lips. The kiss is warm, soft, and gentle, filled with happy memories and dreams of a future.

Reluctantly, Jemma allows her need for air to stop their lips from playing. She rests her forehead against his, keeping her eyes closed, breathing in his familiar scent. Her fingers gently dig into his cheeks.

“Fine mo-motor skills of my l-lips still top-notch,” he jokes, his breath tickling her nose.

“Most definitely,” she chuckles before leaning in to test that theory one more time.


End file.
